The Breathing Space Between Adventures
by TheDimensionOfWords
Summary: Three drabbles set early in the season about Abbie and Ichabod getting to know each other and being there for each other.
1. A Moment to Settle

They made their way out of the station in silence, both thinking on the implications of the death of their sole lead. They headed for Abbie's squad car, though what they could do now but go over the Sheriff's collection of cases, neither was yet sure. Never the less, they each opened their doors, Ichabod trying not to let his growing fascination at the car contraption show.

They sat there, neither buckling and thus committing to drive, yet neither suggesting another option. Ichabod glanced over at Abbie, and hoped she was internally handling the way her world had been altered better than he was his. The future. How preposterous and yet true enough to touch.

She finally broke the silence. "So," she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You want to try one of those hundreds of Starbucks?"

He found himself nodding. "I wonder how coffee has changed since my last taste."

"Well it is a huge business in the 21st century," Abbie said, her main focus on starting the car and maneuvering it out onto the street.

"So the plethora of such shops would imply," he nodded, fiddling with his seat belt.

"But you can still get just plain old jo if that's what you want," she smiled slightly at that, seeming to drift briefly into a memory. Then she noticed what currently held his fascination. "Put that on and stop playing with it. I don't intend to crash, but better safe than sorry."

He complied, but asked, "What does it have to do with safety? And what is this about crashing?" He was just getting used to the strange contraption.

Abbie just sighed and muttered. "I need to find you some books to catch you up on everything. Just take it as it is for now, okay?"

"Alright," he responded, though he was just more curious. Before he could try and ask something else though, she had pulled them into the nearest Starbucks. So he sighed to himself, and was grateful he figured out at least how to use the door latch.

They entered to find only a few other customers, the man behind the counter putting on a smile. "How about I order for the both of us, okay?" Abbie said.

"…I suppose… shall I find a table?" Ichabod asked, gesturing to a lone one by the window.

"Perfect," she smiled at him genuinely, which shifted to polite as she turned to place their order.

Though he felt he was not being a proper gentleman by leaving her side, Ichabod knew that she would not appreciate such… old fashion thought patterns. So he went to sit in one of the two chairs, observing how the people around him interacted while focusing most of his attention on Abbie. She returned shortly with two odd capped cups.

"Stuck with just plain, normal coffee," she assured him. Pointing at a little counter nearer to the door. "There's cream and sugar and anything else you could want to add over there."

"Ah, thank you," he didn't move though, just placed his hands around the hot cup that almost seemed to be made of paper. Seeing as it was the future, he had to remind himself that was highly possible.

"Well, here is to the start of…something," Abbie said, lifting her cup in almost mock celebration.

"As long as that something is not the end of the world," Ichabod couldn't help but add, touching his cup to hers.

She took a careful sip, a small smile coming back. "I can get behind that."

He met her smile, and wondered at what that something that twined their fates together would turn out to be.


	2. Locks of Thanks

Chapter Text

There hadn't been time to drop Ichabod at his hotel room, so he sat waiting for Abbie in her living area while she prepared for the funeral. She made her way to her room, muttering something about putting on the "spit and polish." She half wondered what Ichabod thought of the changes in modern vernacular, because it was easier than thinking on other things. It didn't take her long, but with their research she was worried about being late, so she hurried out with her hair still down.

Ichabod stood as soon as she entered, his expression as solemn as her own. Placing her uniform hat down, she pulled the hair tie she had placed around her wrist off. Before she could place it in her hair though, Ichabod came up behind her.

"Let me," he murmured. At her hesitation though, he immediately backed off. "Only if you wish."

"Well," she relaxed and consented, teasing entering her tone as she handed the hair tie over her shoulder. "You must have practice, with your own luscious locks."

He gently plucked the tie from her hands, running the long fingers of one hand through her hair. "It is the customary style of my time, as you well know," he huffed.

She hummed, as he ran both hands through once more, expertly catching each strand together at the base of her skull. Abbie turned as he stepped back to admire his work. "Perfect?"

"Perfection," Ichabod nodded. He caught her glancing toward a nearby clock. "Time to go?"

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. As them moved toward the door, he placed a comforting hand on her elbow.

"Thanks," she murmured, leading the way to the cruiser.

"I am happy to help with hair, anytime," he stated with a light smile. But both of them knew that she was thanking him for more than just that.


	3. Footwear

Ichabod frowned in the direction of Abbie's feet, brows scrunching together. "Your footwear is impractical."

A slight blush came to Abbie's face, before she cleared her throat and straightened her back. "What is your point?"

"It is just that I am confused," turned his gaze from the shoes to her face, and she fought another, almost guilty, blush. "You are nothing if not logical, Miss Mills. But your highheeled boots are the opposite of that rationality. It does not fit with what I have seen to be your character up to this point."

Abbie placed her forehead in her hand as he continued. "I mean it would make a lot more sense to wear the regulation boots of your fellow officers-"

"I don't like feeling short okay!" she said in utter exasperation. "And now I go walking around with you and I look even shorter."

He blinked at her outburst. "So... you are ashamed of your hight?"

She scowled at him. "Sure, fine, put it that way. Make it sound vain."

Ichabod thought over this, finally shaking his head. "I am sorry if I brought up a sore spot. I do not think it is vain."

She sighed, before smiling. "No, it's fine. I know how dumb it is. It's just that I am a cop and it feels..wrong to have to talk up to criminals."

"You are very adept at caring your work in the heels," he complimented, and they smiled at each other.


End file.
